


Trespassing

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU - Sheriff Stilinski is a Hunter, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Human Jordan Parrish, Polyamory, True Alpha Scott McCall, True Forms, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a hunt for his new-found biological father, Jordan Parrish meets Scott McCall, and Scott's second-in-command, Derek Hale. Jordan is captured by the werewolves, and shortly learns that everything he knows about werewolves, and much of what he knows about himself, is completely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trespassing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hobroseyberry (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/gifts).



> This fic was beta-read by the gracious raving_liberal.
> 
> Thanks to my recipient for the fun prompt. I hope you like it!

Jordan holds his gun in front of him and pointed down with both hands as he walks through the dark woods. His arms shake for how long he's been holding the gun, but he doesn't feel safe enough to holster the gun, either. Jordan knows that his instincts – his _fear_ – are what keep him alive out here. That, and his family.

The leaves crunch under Jordan's boots, and the silence around him is too absolute. He presses his shoulder to a tree and calls out, "Stilinski?"

There's no answer. Jordan's fairly sure the lack of response is because Stilinski isn't in earshot, not because Jordan didn't call him "Dad."

He's still getting used to the fact that his birth father is apparently one of the most well-known werewolf hunters in the country. Hell, six months ago, Jordan had just been a rookie deputy in LA County, wondering about his genealogy. Now, Jordan is running through the woods at night, tracking who-knows-what. 

A few pulse-pounding moments later, Jordan still hasn't heard a reply from Stilinski, just the rustling of branches in the wind. Off to his left, something red catches Jordan's eye. He trains his gun on it, and when the red glimmer separates into two very distinct eyes, Jordan's stomach plummets. The only reason his hands aren't locked up with fear more than they are as he holds up his gun is his training. 

It takes a moment to find his voice, but when he does, Jordan calls out, "Stop right there! This park closes at dusk. You're trespassing."

The voice that slides out of the darkness is calm and friendly. "It's okay, deputy. I'm across the property line. This is private property, where I'm standing."

Jordan can't remember where the park boundaries are, or exactly how far he wandered from the rest of the group once the hair on the back of his neck started to stand. "Uh-huh," he says, mostly to buy himself some time to think. Ah, he's got it. "And I suppose next, you're going to tell me you're not a werewolf."

A young man steps forward into the moonlight falling between the trees. His eyes glow red, and his teeth are white and sharp as he smiles. Before he says anything else, something barrels into Jordan from the side, knocking him down and making his gun skitter away through the leaf litter. Jordan cries out and tries to fight back, but the figure has him pinned. He lets out a growl of frustration and fear. 

"Sorry, deputy," the first werewolf says. "That's my friend, Derek, and I suppose he is trespassing. Oops!"

Derek's eyes glow blue and his breath is hot as he says, "Come on," and drags Jordan up onto his feet. Addressing the first werewolf, Derek asks, "Scott, is this the younger one?"

"Yeah," says the red-eyed werewolf. Scott. "That's him. Let's get him home."

"Wow," Jordan says, not exactly cooperating, but not having much of a choice when Derek marches him past Scott. "You guys are so thoughtful, giving me a ride home!"

Derek growls at Jordan, but Scott chuckles. Jordan's having trouble reconciling the image of werewolves John Stilinski put in his head with this good-looking young man who actually has a sense of humor. 

Scott claps Jordan on the shoulder and says, "We have someone who's dying to meet you, Jordan."

Jordan takes a deep breath, intending to call for help, but Derek slaps his warm hand over Jordan's mouth. "Don't even think about it."

~*~

The two werewolves walk Jordan through the woods for a very long time. Jordan's fairly sure they're walking him in circles so he can't remember the direction in which they've been traveling. It works about two minutes in. Jordan takes it as a good sign, because why conceal their location unless they were planning on keeping Jordan alive?

Eventually, they end up at a house. Well, Jordan wouldn't really call it a house so much as a mansion. What the hell is a mansion doing in the middle of the forest?

The light coming from the house hurts Jordan's eyes for a few moments, and he blinks away the tears of irritation. Before they reach the house, the front door opens and the silhouetted figure standing there asks, "Is that him?"

"No," Scott says as a second figure appears in the doorway, this one almost as tall as the first, but with long hair. "But we got you the next best thing."

The silhouettes step back into the house to make room for Scott, Jordan, and Derek. There's something familiar about the first figure, but Jordan can't put his finger on it. The second figure, the woman, curls her lip at Jordan in a silent snarl.

"Next best–" the young man says, shaking his head and running his hand back over his close-cropped hair. "Scott, you were supposed to get my dad. He was out there tonight!"

"Yeah, I know, Stiles," says Scott. "I'm sorry. Your dad had too many hunters around him. We didn't want anyone to get hurt."

The name "Stiles" triggers a memory from when Jordan first found Stilinski: two of Stilinski's deputies had been whispering about someone with that name. Jordan got the impression it was the name of Stilinski's missing son. Jordan's fairly sure the only reason Stilinski took to Jordan so quickly was because he'd lost his other son – the son he'd decided to stick by and raise himself.

" _You're_ Stiles?" Jordan asks, unable to hold his tongue.

Stiles narrows his eyes at Jordan and stares at him for a long moment. Instead of addressing Jordan directly, Stiles asks Scott, "Who is this guy?"

Before either of the werewolves can answer Stiles, Jordan asks, "What, you don't see the family resemblance?" To be fair, Jordan can't fault Stiles for missing it. Jordan definitely looks more like his mother, and Stiles must look more like his mother as well. Still, now that he knows who Stiles is, Jordan can see the way he has some of Stilinski's features, and even more of his body language. 

"Oh," Stiles says simply, pulling back from Jordan and almost in on himself. "Did– did Dad go looking for you?"

Jordan shakes his head. "I was curious. I found him." Jordan gives Stiles an assessing look, and then says, "He misses you."

Stiles' face goes cold. "Is he still with the Argents?" 

Nodding, Jordan says, "They're helping him look for you."

"We know," Derek says, his hand tightening on Jordan's arm. 

The woman puts her hand in Stiles', and he smiles at her quickly before turning back toward Jordan. "They got to him before we could explain. They made him think…"

"They made him think _all_ werewolves are monsters," the woman supplies for Stiles, her lip curling in disgust. "They made Stilinski think _we're_ monsters."

Jordan shoots his gaze back to Stiles. "You're not human anymore?"

"No, I am," Stiles insists, patting the woman's arm gently. "It's okay, Malia."

His voice gentle, Scott asks Jordan, "Does Stilinski know you're not?"

It takes Jordan a moment to realize Scott is talking about him. "Uh, what?" Jordan asks, half-wishing he wasn't quite so human, because then he might be able to yank his arm out of Derek's grasp. "I'm human."

The others share looks between themselves, and then Scott approaches Jordan. He looks Jordan dead in the eye and puts his hands on Jordan's shoulders, just heavy enough so Jordan knows they're there. 

"No," Scott says in that same gentle voice, the weight of his gaze massive and captivating all at once. Jordan wants to squirm away, but it's not just Derek's hand around his arm preventing that. "No, you're not. Can I show you?"

"Can you…" Jordan wants to shake his head, but he can't look away. He's human, right? Why would Scott say otherwise? Why is he looking at Jordan like he's something special. Jordan isn't special. He was adopted as a baby, he went into the army, and then he became a sheriff's deputy. Thousands of people do all those things. Jordan's not special.

But if Scott thinks Jordan is special, maybe Jordan should let him try to prove it. Maybe when Scott fails, he'll be distracted enough that Jordan will be able to make his escape. Jordan leans his head back, feigning confidence, and says, "Yeah, sure. Go ahead and show me."

"Okay!" Scott's smile is so bright, Jordan has to blink and look away. Then, as Scott's expression grows more serious, his eyes start to glow red. It's that same red Jordan saw out in the woods, the same red that distracted him and let Derek get the drop on him. 

Without the darkness surrounding them, Scott's red eyes aren't so intimidating, but they're just as captivating. Jordan can't look away. Scott's hands on Jordan's shoulders feel heavier and heavier, and Jordan feels like something's being drawn out of him. Oh, god! What if Scott's trying to kill him? They're going to use Jordan's body to lure Stilinski here, and then do god knows what to him! Jordan has to–

He has to…

Everything in Jordan's sight goes orange, like he's standing behind colored glass. He feels like something's erupting from inside of him, and he would be scared, except it feels so good. Every inch of Jordan's body feels amazing, and he realizes that he's shut his eyes. When he opens them, he sees flames licking over the skin on his arms. Jordan knows he should be scared, he knows he should be concerned about what happened to his shirt (and the rest of his clothes, actually), but it feels so good, that there's no way Jordan can feel anything else. 

As Scott pulls his hands away, the flames fade, and Scott's hands aren't burned. They look perfect. Scott looks perfect as he whispers, "Wow."

"Wow," Jordan agrees.

His cheeks growing pink, Scott says, "Sorry about your clothes. I didn't know that would happen."

Jordan shrugs. "I didn't like that shirt, anyway." He knows he should be feeling more distraught about this, but he just can't summon up any of those feelings. 

"What is he?" Malia asks, breathing in like she's scenting the air.

Scott and Stiles look at each other, Stiles shrugging, but it's Derek who answers. "Salamander."

"Salamander," Jordan repeats, looking down at his hands. At some point, Derek released Jordan, so he has full use of both arms again. He knows he should fight his way out, get back to the others, but everything Stilinski told him about werewolves and every other supernatural creature suddenly seems hopelessly incomplete. He digs again for that feeling Scott instilled in him, and the flames burst forth again, this time only from the palms of his hands. Derek jumps a little, Malia pulls Stiles behind her, but Scott stays perfectly still, smiling at Jordan. 

Jordan smiles back. "Cool."

~*~

Derek leads Jordan up through the house, giving him wary looks now and then. Jordan says, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were scared of me." He laughs, because that's ridiculous. Derek outweighs him by probably seventy-five pounds, and he's a _werewolf_. If either of them should be scared, it's Jordan.

Derek shakes his head with a frown and shows Jordan into a bedroom. "Not scared. Just…" Derek huffs and goes toward the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes and setting them aside until he finally finds the ones he wants. He hands a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt to Jordan, who takes them gratefully. Now that the euphoria has worn off, Jordan's starting to feel self-conscious about being naked.

As he gets dressed (of course under Derek's watchful eye), Jordan asks, "Just what? Are Salamanders that bad? I've never heard of them before."

"Not necessarily," Derek says, his gaze lingering lower as Jordan's head clears the top of the shirt and he pulls it down over his torso. Derek clears his throat and looks up at Jordan's eyes. "Dangerous, but usually good."

"So, the opposite of werewolves?" Jordan asks, looking down at his feet and wondering if Derek's got some extra shoes, too.

Derek growls a little and crosses his arms tighter. "Most werewolves aren't bad. We just want to be left alone. It's the _hunters_ who come after us. Kill us. Kill our families." He gives Jordan a significant look. "Burn our houses down."

“Have they done that?” Jordan asks, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “Burned houses down?”

Derek presses his lips together and nods.

“I didn’t even…” Jordan looks down at his hands. “I didn’t think werewolves even lived in houses.”

“You thought, what?” Derek asks with a wry chuckle. “We lived in the woods?”

“I didn’t even know about werewolves until six months ago,” Jordan says. “I haven’t had a lot of time to think it through.”

Derek takes a step closer, which Jordan has to admit is intimidating and makes his heart beat twice as fast as normal. “Or you just ate up all the stories the Argents told you about us without question.”

Cheeks hot, even though he’s not giving off fire, Jordan nods. “Yeah, I guess I did. I’m sorry, man. I wanted Stilinski to like me.”

“The Argents got to him,” Derek says with a nod, “before we could. Stilinski…” Derek sighs.

“He’s out for blood,” Jordan says, shaking his head. Hunting werewolves made more sense to Jordan before he met Scott and Derek, and even then, it made him uneasy. “From what I understand, Stilinski has known about the supernatural for a long time; he's been hunting for a long time, but not like this... Derek, Stilinski thinks you guys kidnapped Stiles.”

Scott comes into the room, saying, “Stiles kidnapped himself. The Argents were planning to use him against me, so we went into hiding. We’ve been trying to get the Sheriff away from them long enough to explain our side of the story.” 

Scott takes a few more steps until he’s at Derek’s side, putting his arm around Derek’s waist. Jordan wonders if werewolves are usually this touchy-feely with their friends. Or _packmates_ , Jordan supposes would be more accurate.

Scott gives Jordan a long look, and Jordan can’t bring himself to look away. “Maybe you could help us with that?”

“Um.” Jordan looks back and forth between Derek and Scott. “Help you explain your side? I’d have to get him away from Chris Argent somehow. That guy’s always around.”

“Yeah. He’s like that.” Scott leaves Derek’s side and takes a step toward Jordan, picking up Jordan’s hand with his own. “Helping us could be dangerous. If the Argents find out who you really are, things could get really bad. You don’t have to do this.”

Jordan thinks about that. He’s in the business of protecting people, and that’s definitely what he wants to keep doing. Wouldn’t the best way to protect the most people be to end this war between the Argents and the werewolves?

It would certainly help Jordan put this branch of his family back together.

Speaking of family trees, Jordan asks Scott, “Did you make me what I am? With what you did?”

Scott shakes his head and confirms Jordan's suspicion. "No." He squeezes Jordan's hand again. "This has always been you. I just helped…" Scott trails off, turning toward Derek as if looking for the right words.

Derek provides them. "Helped bring it to the surface."

"Can he do it to you, too?" Jordan asks Derek, before looking to Scott and raising his eyebrows. 

"I can do it for any one of us supernatural people – if they don't already have an alpha," Scott explains. "Or for members of my pack."

Scott turns a look toward Derek, raising his eyebrows. Derek pauses for a moment, and then nods, relaxing his stance and letting his arms fall to his sides. 

Jordan watches as Scott's eyes go red again, this time directed at Derek. Scott isn't even touching Derek, but Derek's face _changes_. Jordan has heard stories about werewolves. He's seen pictures, and tracked werewolves through the woods, and even caught a glimpse of one before Stilinski shot at it. Jordan has never seen a werewolf like _this _.__

Derek looks inhuman, that's for sure, with his pronounced brows, cheekbones, and jaw; his sharp teeth; his yellow-glowing _eyes_. Jordan feels his heart thudding away in his chest, and he tries – but fails – to breathe normally. 

Beside Jordan, Scott says, "You don't have to be scared of Derek." Lowering his voice to a playful whisper, Scott adds, "He's usually pretty tame in this setting."

Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes as he shifts back to looking human. It takes Jordan a moment to realize Scott's meaning. They're standing in a bedroom, presumably Derek's bedroom. Jordan's starting to think Scott probably sleeps here, too.

"Um, okay," Jordan says, feeling his face blush. Scott's smile goes from calm, if playful, to beaming brighter than the sun, and Jordan thinks it's a smile he's fallen in love with already. His heart still beats too quickly, but for different reasons now. Confused and overwhelmed, Jordan asks, "So, when can I go?"

"As soon as we make sure you can control your power," Scott says, his smile still bright. "If you're going back to the hunters for us, you'll want to make sure they don't figure out what you are."

Swallowing nervously, Jordan nods. "Okay. How do we do that?"

Stepping up behind Jordan, his breath hot on the back of Jordan's neck, Derek says, "By putting you in stressful situations."

Jordan's voice feels tight and strained as he asks, "What sort of stressful situations?"

Scott steps closer, his eyes flashing red, and Jordan gets the distinct feeling that he's about to be devoured by wolves. "Oh, anything that'll get your heart rate up."

"Anything?" Jordan asks, his voice cracking like it hasn't in years.

His eyes locked on Jordan's, Scott takes another step forward. Jordan can feel the heat pouring off Scott's body. Derek is a solid wall behind him.

Scott smirks. "Anything."

~* End *~


End file.
